Coming Home
by Lady Blackwolf
Summary: I'm coming home to breathe again, to start again. I'm coming home from all the places I have been, with nothing but a voice within, that calls me… Calls me home. Songfic. Sherlock has finally come back, and is anxiously awaiting to see his family once more. The ones he left behind in order to save them. John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade... Molly.


A/N: I know I meant for this to be fluffy, but things didn't quite go as I had planned. Instead it turned into a totally different piece than what I first thought but I hope you stick with it and aren't too disappointed. Now I heard this song a while back on a random YouTube video and liked it so much I added it to my spotify playlist. Then one night when I was reading an 'after the fall' fic, this song started playing and the story just appeared. This is dedicated to all Sherlolly fans and a special thanks and Christmas present to Elixir BB you're amazing! X) Now I'm not very good at this kind of stuff so I apologize if its rubbish, but I hope you like it and enjoy! Calls Me Home by Shannon LaBrie.

I'm coming home

To breathe again,

To start again

I'm coming home

From all the places

I have been

With nothing

But a voice within

That calls me…

Calls me home

It had been almost a year since the fall, and Moriarty's web was finally destroyed. Sherlock was at present in Nova Scotia removing the final strand of thread from the complex spider's web that his nemesis had spun. He'd had suspicions that the man himself might have still been alive, but Mycroft had assured him that the body of Jim Moriarty was still on the hospital roof after he had jumped and he himself had seen the autopsy done to confirm. What Mycroft hadn't told his brother, was that he had taken a kind of precautionary measure as insurance that the man was in fact dead. Mycroft Holmes wasn't a violent man but he owed his younger brother for feeding the consulting criminal all the necessary information to condemn Sherlock.

It was finally over, he could at last return home, to John, Mrs. Hudson, to London, to 221b, to Baker Street, to his job and cases, to…

_Sherlock still remembered the last conversation between him and Molly before he'd left London. She handed him his beloved wool coat and a clean blue scarf along with a battered fedora to cover his riotous black curls and keep his face in shadows. He pulled on his coat and laced the scarf around his neck but grimaced at the tasteless cap. 'I will not wear that thing; it's almost as bad as the damned deer stalker.'_

_Molly smiled but pushed the hat back in his hands. 'You'll need it to hide your face; you are supposed to be dead. The last thing you need is for someone to recognize you because you were too stubborn to cover up properly.'_

_Sherlock snorted and begrudgingly took the hat but didn't put it on; Molly raised a brow at him but made no comment. She knew better, so instead she gave him a brief awkward hug before backing away. 'Be safe, and… and please come back. Come back to us.'_

_'Us?' he asked confused at her choice of words._

_'You know, everyone; John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft… me.'_

_She had looked so nervous as she said it, but this was possibly the final time she'd ever see him again and apparently that had given her courage. Sherlock took in every last detail of her features committing them to a special place in his mind palace. The way her smile lit up her eyes, the way she laughed, the exact color of her hair and shade of her eyes, the shape of her face, the delicate look and touch of her hands. All these things were carefully catalogued and stored in the new room he had created just for her._

_Without conscious thought he approached her, hand reaching up to wrap a lock of her light brown hair around his fingers. It was exceptionally soft and smelled of her fruity shampoo. Again without permission he brought the strand to his lips, closing his eyes as the silky feel of her hair against his skin made his stomach tighten. 'Sherlock?'_

_He opened his eyes to see Molly staring at him with such confusion and the tiniest spark of hope in her lovely brown eyes. 'Yes Molly?'_

_She visibly gulped and flicked her gaze down to compose herself, no doubt. But he could see her pulse jumping in her throat, her pupils dilating to take him in, feel the slight tremor in her body at his closeness. Sherlock could feel his own body responding to hers, his pulse elevating, altered breathing pattern, strange sensations in his chest cavity and abdomen. Which was odd, he had been physically close to Molly on many occasions but never with this kind of result. "Y-your train leaves in half an hour, you should head out soon.' Her breathing had become slightly irregular and her pupils had become so large that they had all but swallowed her irises._

_If he bothered to look in a mirror his were probably in the same state. However he had much more interesting things to look at, at the moment. 'I have time to spare Molly.'_

_His gaze shifted from her eyes down her face to her lips. He remembered saying once that she had a small mouth, however upon closer inspection he found he was wrong. It was perfect; she didn't need the red lipstick to enhance her features like he'd said, she was already flawless. Releasing her hair his hands slid to cup her face between his large palms, his thumb stroking over her bottom lip. Her mouth fell open slightly at his touch; he could feel her panting breath on his hand and face. He didn't remember being that close a few moments ago, how had that happened? Their fronts were nearly touching, only a few scant inches separated them. 'Sherlock…'_

_Her voice was breathy and had dropped in pitch, making it very difficult to control his own body's reaction to her. Her own hands had come up and were gripping his forearms, she was trembling. But it was that last look into her eyes that snapped his control. The expression in her soft gaze was filled with enough love, pain, and hope that he couldn't stop himself. He dropped his head the last few inches and claimed her mouth in searing kiss. She immediately responded, her small hands moving from his arms to the back of his neck, her delicate touch sending him into a tailspin. His grip on her changed and one arm banded around her waist pulling her flush against him. Now they were connected from mouth to knee, and apparently she approved of this move giving a soft moan._

_The kiss itself had started slow, but when Molly flexed her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pure bliss, a groan vibrating from deep within his chest. Begging for more Sherlock tightened his grip on her and slowly stroked his tongue across her lower lip seeking admittance. She obliged by parting her mouth and letting him enter, she had been wanting this for so long there was nothing she could deny him. Nothing._

"The plane should be landing any minute Mr. Blake, is there anything you need before you depart?"

"No." He snapped, angry at the mental interruption.

However the moment was gone and his thoughts found a new trail to follow. How would they react when he came back? Sherlock gave a small chuckle at John's potential reaction; most likely the man would probably hug him then punch him so hard his jaw would dislocate. Mrs. Hudson would most likely cry and make a pot of tea, before getting him an ice pack. Lestrade would only sigh and hand him a new case that he was having difficulties with. And Molly… he had no idea what Molly would do, there were multiple scenarios going through his head, while some set his blood aflame others tied his stomach in knots. What if she had left Bart's? What if she didn't care? What if…? _Stop it. You base actions and words on deductions, and you have no proof that she has done anything but continue her life in St. Bart's hospital._

However a small voice spoke up in his mind and what it said made his chest constrict painfully. It was _his_ voice. His curse… Moriarty. _You also have no evidence to prove that theory. For all you know she found a boyfriend, or left for a better opportunity in some other hospital. She may have even left London, or perhaps Britain altogether. She may have forgotten you._

Sherlock shook his head harshly to rid himself of the dozens of images of Molly happy without him, of her leaving him alone, of her kissing someone else. A sharp stab of anger and jealousy ripped through him at the thought. _Now when did that happen? You scorn and mock sentiment. So why is it, the very idea of our beloved Molly, a woman you abandoned by the way, being with someone else can send you into a jealous tizzy?_

Squeezing his eyes shut he tried deleting the offending images and mocking voice of the man he despised with every fiber of his being. Thankfully his "aid" came to push his wheelchair onto the plane. Mycroft had asked him why he was still disguising himself when his name was clear and it was finally safe to return home, but Sherlock simply stared out the frost covered window and replied, "Can't be too careful; besides its practice for when I get back to London." That was a week ago and now, finally he was headed back to where he belonged.

As he was assisted into the first class seat, he made sure to keep his lower limbs relaxed. He rather resented the wheelchair, since one, he didn't like being seen as weak, and two, because he didn't like others touching him. However he knew that to pull off the best disguises you had to perfect your character and that meant sucking it up and letting strangers manhandle him into the seat. The only good thing about it was the parking spots, and everyone may see the man in a wheelchair but no one ever takes notice of him.

The flight was a numbingly tedious six hours, and since his mind never truly shut off there was only some many things that could keep his interest. Granted the overly flirtatious stewardess kept him entertained for a good half hour while she tried to entice an obviously gay man into a liaison when they landed. The temptation to say something choked and died on his tongue, he knew better. John would say he had grown a conscience but that wasn't it really, he had simply learned that to say something rude made you stick out in people's minds. It was simple self-preservation; to remain anonymous you must keep silent and still. The less attention you drew to yourself the better.

"Would you like a drink sir?" This stewardess was pushing the refreshment cart and gave a bright smile.

Sherlock shook his head but his eyes followed the girl down the aisle. Her hair and eyes were similar to Molly's but it was her smile that was exactly the same; cheerful, light, open, with just a dash of nervousness to complete the picture. A small clatter brought his attention back to the young stewardess; she had accidentally spilled orange juice on another passengers lap and she was turning a bright red as she handed the poor fellow some napkins to clean up the mess. The man gave an embarrassed smile but there was a teasing lilt in it that screamed he found the girl attractive. Another flash of color said she had noticed and that she in turn reciprocated his first sight attraction.

The memories of Molly again began surfacing when she cast her gaze downward with a nervous laugh and flustered smile at something the man had said. He had seen Molly do that same thing many a time, especially when she was talking to him. A fresh sting of regret and possessiveness shot through him at the thought of her doing those actions with someone else. As anger built within him it was all he could do to keep his legs from fidgeting, if only he could have his violin with him to settle his mind. Though he doubted that would help, all he had been playing recently was _her _melody, the one he had unconsciously composed for her, his favorite pathologist.

It was sweet and haunting; it echoed with unrequited affection and dashed hopes but it always rose again with blind faith and love. Like the song described, Molly always came back from his brush offs and insults with a smile and lighthearted eyes. Hoping today there would be none to bruise her, to throw her from her tower of dreams; but it would never happen. He would either flat out ignore her, or snap at her in clipped tones burying her light under hurt and the dull glitter of unshed tears. Heaving a heavy sigh he only had to hope that that kiss helped him atone for some of his cruel thoughtless words, and for leaving her alone. _'I don't count.'_ Those words haunted him to this very day.

_'__I don't count.' _His heart seized in his chest, and his eyes squeezed shut from the pain. Her normally open and sweet face was blank with a self-depreciating smirk, saying 'it's okay, I wasn't worthy of you anyway'. God if only she knew the truth. _You still abandoned her. Do you really think you can just waltz back into her life like nothing's changed? Just how deluded are you?_ Moriarty mocked.

"Shut up. Just shut up!" He snarled teeth bared in a grimace.

Thankfully no one had heard him but the voice refused to be silent. _Oh poor Sherlock, so lost in his own world he throws away the only guiding lights he has. No wonder it was so easy to manipulate you and win our little game._

Angry frustrated energy made him twitch and fidget restlessly in his seat. In a desperate attempt to silence the monster within he pulled his IPod from his coat pocket and plugged the headphones in his ears. Turning the music up as loud as he could stand he drowned out the outside world. He fell asleep to the sounds of screeching electric guitars, pounding drums, and howling vocalists.

A soft hand on his arm startles him awake hours later. "We are landing soon, is there anything you need?"

Blinking rapidly to clear his blurry vision Sherlock shook his head. "No, thank you." The stewardess smiled politely and moved on.

_You came back._ "Molly." His voice cracked on her name.

Her voice now sounded in his head, but unlike Moriarty's harsh cutting tones Molly served as a soothing balm to all his wounds. _You did it. You finally came home._

Closing his eyes he pictured her in his mind's eye, long brown hair free of any confines, eyes shining with her inner light, a large smile and a soft expression. He was almost home, back where he truly belonged. "Yes, I came back. Did you doubt me?" he whispered.

He heard her tinkling laugh, _Not for a second. You did worry me for a little while though. But I knew you would never abandon John, he means too much to you no matter what you say to the contrary._

Her words were meant to be kind but something in them still stung him. "I didn't come back just for him. I also came back for you. You invaded my every conscious thought without permission and then made yourself comfortable. You, my dear Molly, never allowed me to forget you; you stubbornly refused to be deleted." His hushed conversation went unnoticed by any other passengers as the plane coasted into landing.

Molly gave a small chuckle, _Liar. Who are you going to see first? John? Your brother? Mrs. Hudson?_

The plane jerked on the runway, halting his internal conversation. Even in his head she couldn't believe she mattered. He rolled his eyes in annoyance of her stubbornness; but then again he guessed it was his own fault for insulting, abusing, and cutting her down for so long that she accepted that she didn't count to anyone, least of all him. However there had also been hints that she mattered more than he claimed as well, every time she got a new boyfriend he would dissect them, expose their rotten underbellies, and cause them to break up with _his_ Molly. The territorial growl that left his throat at the thought of someone else touching her, making her smile, bringing out that inner shine, bought him some startled and nervous glances from close by passengers but he pointedly ignored them.

_Easy, you'll be back with everyone soon. I know you've missed John and Mrs. Hudson, and no matter what you say I know you did. _Molly grinned teasingly.

A rueful smile pulled on his lips. _I thought so._ Within minutes his wheelchair was brought to him and he shifted his lanky frame into it. He waved away the flight attendant and wheeled himself off the plane into the airport. His restless energy now having a purpose he quickly found the closest loo and asked a passerby to hold the door open for him. Once safely inside he checked if any other people were in the stalls, flipping the lock on the entry door he finally stood from the confining chair. Stretching his stiff legs and back Sherlock stood to his full height for the first time in almost two days. There were more than a few loud snaps and pops as joints and vertebrae went back into alignment. _Oh that feels good!_

Quickly stripping and changing into his spare clothes that he'd had his brother stash in all the loos ahead of time, he finally started to feel… normal. Well as normal as he can get really, he was a rather unique individual. _Oh don't you start that again. We all know you are special but you don't need to keep rubbing our noses in it._ Molly chided her face scrunching in irritation.

He gave a cocky lopsided grin to the mirror in answer to her mental visage. She in turn stuck out her tongue and sulked. _Cheeky bugger._

Folding the wheelchair up, he stuffed it between the wall and the back stall knowing one of his brother's lackeys would remove it sometime later today. He then threw his old clothes into the trash bin, and stopped to look at his reflection for a moment. He didn't look much different than when he had left, but his eyes were more shadowed and tired. Like an old soldier coming back from war, he was rougher and haunted by demons of the past but satisfied in the coming home victorious. Dressed in his old clothes he felt instantly more comfortable and relaxed, but now came the hard part; seeing everyone again.

Lestrade had to be first, he liked the Detective well enough but he was the person who would take the least amount of time reconnecting with. Mrs. Hudson and John would take longer, they had known him best and were the most devastated by his "death". His brother… well he didn't give a damn about his brother, Mycroft knew he was home and that was all that mattered. Now they could go back to irritating and ignoring the others existence. _Ah the wonders of familial bonds._ With that said there was yet another person he needed to see, to show a promise kept and to prove some other things as well…

Keeping his head down, he unlocked the door and walked out into the foot traffic of the airport. His long legs ate up the ground as he headed for the exits; barely contained nervous energy compelling him to move faster through the crowd. He finally reached the automatic glass doors and didn't even hesitate; he briskly walked through them and into the London drizzle. The cool air swept his riotous curls up and brought color to his cheeks. It was glorious. Greedily he inhaled and lifted his face to the rain, just to feel the sensation of the elements around him. He was so close. "Oi you're blocking the way, move it!" A voice growled brushing past him.

Snapping from his reverie Sherlock jolted back into motion. The lines for a cab were horrendous and he was not in the mood to wait. Before Sherlock even had the chance to walk away from the taxi lines a sleek black car pulled to the curb, when the back window rolled down just enough to reveal the face of Anthea a mix of relief and irritation flooded him. "Care for a lift?"

"You have no idea." He replied climbing into the back.

"Who's first?" Anthea asked without looking up from her phone.

_Typical._ Molly quipped mocking the woman's lack of social decorum.

One corner of his mouth tipped up; like he had ever paid attention to such things, Molly had a rather large blind spot when it came to him though. She generally ignored his obnoxious behavior and rude comments to average citizens. It was only when they were directed at her or someone she liked that she made much of a fuss. "The police station, if you would."

"As you wish." She tapped the glass partition and the car started moving into the flow of traffic.

Sherlock spent most of the drive gazing out the window, though he wasn't really looking at the scenery. However something in his brain alerted him to the direction they were taking. "I told you to go the police station, why are we going to Baker Street?"

"Your brother has them all gathered there. That way you can get it all over with quickly."

Sherlock scowled, damn his brother, this was not the way he wanted things to go. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. He thought it would be better to get it done quickly. Besides we both know who it is you really want to see." That got his attention.

Snapping a sidelong glance to Anthea he saw her smirk slightly before going back to her phone. He made a disinterested grunt to hide his reaction and went back to staring out the window. All too quickly he reached his destination. The building looked much the same, a little more faded with time, in need of a new gutter and fresh mortar to redo the stone steps. "Well come on, they've waited long enough for the surprise."

Brow furrowing Sherlock paused in his climb from the car. "You mean you haven't told them?"

She just grinned and ushered him out. _Well played brother._ "Well this just got more interesting." He muttered as another black vehicle pulled up behind them.

"That one will take you where you want to go once you finish here. Don't take too long, her shift ends in two hours." With a final sly parting smile Anthea closed the door and drove away.

_I think I could learn to like that one..._ Molly's voice said quietly. _Well, you ready?_

"No." Swallowing his fear Sherlock quickly ascended the steps but hesitated at ringing the bell.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he stood frozen. _Go on. It's high time you finally got to see your family again._

Not everyone is here.

Everyone important.

_Not quite…_ taking a deep breath he finally pressed the button and waited.

It wasn't long before a familiar figure walked towards the door. "Just a moment!"

When the door finally opened whatever Mrs. Hudson had been about to say died on her lips. "Hello Mrs. Hudson."

For a moment he feared she was so stunned at seeing him alive she had gone into shock. "Mrs. Hudson?"

She flew at him.

Rocking back on his heels to keep from falling over, he held the small elderly woman as she wept into his coat and sputtered nonsense about how stupid he was and how much she had missed him. He patted her back and let her get it out, it was better to let her do this now than later. "Mrs. Hudson who is it?"

_John_.

Mrs. Hudson was still shaking but stepped back from him to call up the stairs to his old flat mate. "Just a wayward son who has finally come home," Sherlock gave a small smile to the old bird.

She would call him that.

A thumping alerted them to the arrival of John coming down the stairs. John hadn't changed much either, though he appeared to have lost some weight and his eyes were brighter, less haunted than when they had first met. _Found himself a keeper then? Good for him._

You are such a romantic.

Oh shut up, and be happy for him. He deserves it after the hell you put him through.

"Hello John."

John was still for all of three seconds before running down the rest of the stairs and tackling Sherlock rugby style. "You bastard! You selfish son of bitch, you left! You let us think you were dead, you let us think the worst of you, and then you show up here like it was nothing!" John shouted, rage and tears evident on his face as he pummeled Sherlock.

Sherlock said nothing just took the brunt of John's attack before he started dodging. He knew he deserved this and it was a reaction he had expected from his emotional friend. After a minute or two of fighting John and Sherlock finally separated both panting heavily from the exertion. "Feel better now?" Sherlock quipped wiping blood from his lip.

John snarled and looked like he was about to attack him again when he just deflated. "No, but it's a start."

"How are things?"

"Boring really, or at least boring by your standards anyway." John said with a shrug. "I suppose you're the reason Lestrade is here as well?"

"Good old Mycroft, planning a surprise party for me. Do I look twelve?" Sherlock scowled.

John gave a lopsided grin before replying. "No but you certainly act it sometimes." Sherlock paused on the stairs, staring at Johns back as he kept moving.

"I am going to ignore that last comment, and chalk it up to your shock at seeing me alive again."

Without even turning around John answered, "You can do as you please, but you and I both know that you can have the attitude of a possessive nine year old on speed." Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson try to hide a very poorly disguised laugh behind a cough, and Molly was no better although she wasn't even trying to hide her mirth.

_Cheeky wench. _Molly only laughed harder.

_I think I like this new attitude of his, he is certainly more entertaining._ She said with a giggle.

Sherlock snorted. "Whoever your girlfriend is, she has certainly caused a change in you."

That gave John pause. "How did you-? Oh never mind, it's you of course you would know. Well come inside. Mary? Can you pour another cup of tea, we have another guest?" Mary as it turned out was a pleasant looking woman with curly light brown hair, soft blue eyes, and an open face.

Sherlock knew most of her life in a few quick glances but her refreshingly direct gaze and gentle eyes told him she truly cared for John. Which was enough for him; she had obviously dragged him from the pit of despair and given him hope. Lestrade did a double take on his entry but broke into a grin and raised his glass in salute. "I was wondering what that vulture of a brother of yours was up to by bringing us together. I guess you are the reason?"

Sherlock gave a small smile at the image of his brother as a vulture. His attitude and the way he spoke made it easy, though he doubted Mycroft would support such a statement. Of course that was half the fun. "So you are the infamous Sherlock Holmes?" Mary asked taking a sip of her tea.

"Yes, has John told you much about me?"

"Only that you were one of his greatest friends even though you could be a total prat, and that you had the most brilliant mind he had ever seen." Sherlock was silent, after he had left he didn't know how his friend would think of him.

The fact that he still held him in high regard, after everything, made him humble. "He also said a few other things about you, but nothing I would be comfortable repeating in pleasant company." She said sweetly, John nearly choked on his tea while Mary kept a smile on her face.

Sherlock's brow raised and sent another look to John, "Oh really?"

"Yes, and to be honest if you weren't already sporting bruises from John I would have been forced to put some Belladonna in that tea of yours." Now it was Sherlocks turn to choke.

While Mary kept a straight face John grinned from ear to ear, _Oh I like her. _Molly grinned.

_You would._ Sherlock huffed.

They spent a good hour talking, Sherlock explaining where he had been and how he had taken down the complex web of Moriarty. John and Lestrade took everything in and posed a question every now and then, Mrs. Hudson and Mary both gave their undivided attention to the Detective, but there was another face he so desperately wanted to see. Ending his tale in a bit of rush he glanced at the clock to gauge the time, "Her shift ends in half an hour." John sais taking another sip of tea.

Sherlock sent his friend a mildly curious look, apparently in his absence John had become more observant but to see if he had just guessed or actually learned to pay attention to the minor details he pretended ignorance. "What?"

You've been slipping looks to the clock the entire time you were talking, and since Molly is the only one absent from this little group I'm going to assume you haven't seen her yet."

Sherlock kept his face impassive but he was impressed that John had deduced correctly, even with the unsubtle hints he had been leaving John had not always _seen_ what was right in front of him. With a one-sided smile Sherlock gave a slight nod to his partner. "Well done, I see you've learned to observe with much better accuracy than before." John had a rather smug look on his face but was trying -rather unsuccessfully- to hide it.

"Had plenty of time to practice while you were away, but if you want to catch her before she leaves I suggest you leave. Now."

Sherlock wasted no time and stood from his chair, with a nod to each of them he left the flat and trotted down the stairs to the street. As he was climbing into the back of the waiting car John came running down after him. "Hey before you leave I just want to tell you..." He stumbled a bit over his words but he finally managed to say, "I'm glad you're home."

"I'm glad to be home John."

"Don't hurt her. She went through a lot after you... died, and she had a hard time getting back to normal. So please, don't hurt her." John's eyes bored into his own begging him not to break sweet Molly's heart.

_Never again. _"I promise." He swore before climbing into the back of the car.

The drive was short but Sherlock couldn't help but fidget and squirm uncontrollably in his seat as he drew closer and closer to St Bart's. The car had barely come to a stop when he bolted from the vehicle, striding with distinct purpose to the entrance. However he slowed to halt and looked up at the roof of the hospital, the same roof that just a year ago Moriarty had shot himself on, the same roof he had jumped off of to save his family. _John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and... Molly._ He had not named her that day hoping Moriarty hadn't realized just how much she mattered to him, how much she _counted. _Finally looking away from his past he faced the doors to hospital and hopefully his future. Granted he was a bit conspicuous looking among the staff in their scrubs and lab coats while he was in his beloved belstaff, but no one seemed to pay him a bit of attention. Which suited him just fine as he moved unimpeded towards the elevator and his favorite pathologist.

When the doors opened Sherlock jumped forward practically running down the hallway to the morgue. The double doors to her lab were the only thing separating him from her now, but he ended up stopping short. He could just make out her shape through the small windows, and everything fell into place. Slowly he opened the door and stepped inside, everything was the same. All the equipment in the same place, all the chemicals and papers still scattered about in an ordered chaos, even the smells were the same. But most of all, Molly was the same. Her back was to him giving him a few moments to observe her, her hair still styled in a high ponytail, small efficient hands working diligently to complete whatever task she had, and when she turned her head slightly he could see the same crease in between her brows as she concentrated.

"Molly." She instantly froze.

Achingly slow she turned her head, her eyes were closed but she still turned. "Molly." His chest burned as he called to her again.

"I'm afraid to look in case you're not really there." Her voice was small and cracked on the last word.

When he said her name a third time her eyes finally opened and she looked at him. The choked sob that escaped her throat nearly did him in, but what she said next made him pause. "Are you really here?"

He gave a crooked grin, "Yes. I've kept my promise, I came back."

Her eyes fluttered shut again as she struggled to breathe normally. "Please… please don't be a dream." He couldn't take it anymore and strode across the room to her in four steps.

Molly turned fully towards him and rushed at him, without a seconds hesitation Sherlock bent, caught her round the waist, and lifted her off the ground in a close embrace. His hand cradled the back of her head as the other arm banded across her back to keep her as close as possible. Burying his nose in the crook of her neck, the scent of cherry blossoms, anti-bacterial soap, chemicals, and the pure essence of Molly flooded his welcome senses. "You finally came back." She whispered arms tight around his neck, hands clenched in his coat.

"I finally came home." He amended.

"I'm so glad." Molly trembled from head to toe and he could feel her tears wetting his neck and collar.

As reluctant as he was to let go he did need to say something to her face. Angling his head he placed feather light kisses along her neck to her jaw. A breathy sigh slid past her lips at his attentions and her grip loosened a bit so she could return the favor. "I missed you." She whispered.

"I know. I missed you too."

"Please don't leave again…"

"Never." It was a fool promise to make but he would try and keep it, to the best of his ability, for the rest of his life.

With a gentle tug he pulled her head back to see her face up close. It was just as lovely as he remembered, full of life and as vivacious as ever. However he did notice her slightly red rimmed eyes and the dark purple smudges just beneath them, saying she was having trouble sleeping and was heavily stressed, but they still glowed with a vibrancy only she possessed. "Is it truly finished? Are you home for good?" She asked, gently combing her fingers through his hair, as if afraid he would disappear if she let go.

Sherlock gave her a solemn nod. "It is finished."

She smiled. "Good." She then dove in for a kiss.

As surprised as he was by her bold actions he wasn't going to complain. After a few moments Sherlock pulled back to lay his forehead against hers. "I have been waiting for a year to finish what we started, and I will not let you leave this room until you believe you are as essential to me as breathing."

Molly smiled sweetly at him before replying. "I think you just did. Although I wouldn't mind if you decided to show me anyway." Molly took advantage of her position and wrapped her legs around his waist grinding her hips against his.

With a feral growl he clutched her even tighter to his chest. "Don't tease it's unfair."

"And when did you ever concern yourself with playing fair?" Molly smirked.

"Good point." He muttered before covered her lips with his own.

A/N: There it is! My monstousity! I do love it though and hope you like it as well :D. I know they are a bit OOC but it's fanfiction, and I don't have complete control over the characters when I write them. (Despite what some authors say) Again I give thanks to Elixir BB for being so patient with me and encouraging when I thought everything was shit. I love you and you are one of the best friends a girl could ask for. This has been sitting on my files for awhile and since Sherlock is coming back in a matter of days I decided to finally post it. Now since it was written about a year ago I went back and changed a few things that I didn't like, so if it's choppy I apologize. But I hope you liked it and will leave me a review with what you thought and Merry Christmas!


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